Almost Always
by Marzipan77
Summary: Tag for Moebius - ancient Egyptian timeline. What happened to our heroes in ancient Egypt? Daniel survived alone, planning a rebellion after their first failure, after he lost his entire team. It couldn't have been easy. And then new people wearing his best friends' faces arrived. Warnings: canon character deaths.
1. Chapter 1

Almost. Always.

By marzipan77

GEN, SG-1

Tag to Moebius – the Ancient Egypt segment. This fic was spawned when I tried to read the SG-1 book, Moebius Squared. My muse turned away after page 3 and this fic was born.

Warning: Canon character deaths. Talk of suicide. Sad. Sadsadsad. Just saying.

Chapter 1

Daniel turned the crystal mechanism over and over in his hand as he walked across the dunes. His head down, eyes narrowed even in the darkest hour of night, his bleached hair hidden beneath a dark headscarf, he kept his footfalls quiet and controlled unwilling to dislodge a single stray grain of sand. He felt the weight of the clear sky on his shoulders, the sweep of stars watching with dazzling bright eyes. The only ones, he hoped, that marked his progress.

The headaches were getting worse. He'd managed to hide it so far – from everyone but Khefti – but he knew his time was short. Whatever had happened when he was injured in the original attack, whatever had become … broken … inside his skull, was slowly catching up with him. Dr. Daniel Jackson wasn't meant to live in a lost desert land, not on Earth, not on Abydos. The universe was going to make sure of that. The knowledge spurred him on, urged him forward, always forward. He could do this. He had to do this.

O'Neill had finally collapsed – dosed by Nabura once Khefti had given her the signal. The fighting was over, the last pockets of resistance eliminated hours ago by Daniel's band of young men, armed with captured staff weapons and a couple of well-placed Goa'uld grenades. The colonel had allowed the burn on his thigh to be treated, scarfed down his first hot meal in three days, and had fallen onto the first available pallet, snoring in an all-too-familiar cadence.

Dr. Carter had been conscripted into service as Nabura's assistant in the hospital tent from the beginning. There wasn't much for a theoretical astrophysicist to do in ancient Egypt – not many career paths to follow. She was still brilliant, however, Daniel smiled to himself. In any universe, Samantha Carter was a force to be reckoned with. And, it seemed, she had only one thing on her mind right now - Daniel was sure she'd watch over O'Neill. Never let him leave her sight, more like.

As for Teal'c – this timeline's Teal'c had put himself in charge of inventorying any Goa'uld tech that Ra had left behind and eliminating any sympathizers that had missed a ride on the Goa'uld's limping hatak two weeks ago. Teal'c had been brutally efficient. But, of the three time travelers from the altered timeline, he was the most like the Jaffa – the warrior brother – Daniel had known. Daniel found himself relying on the Jaffa's strength and loyalty instinctively.

In another life, they might have been friends, comrades. He sighed silently. In another life they had been.

He leaned forward, digging his toes into the dune's steep incline. For the first time he lifted his gaze to track his approach, gently easing himself to lie full length and crawl up the last few meters to peer over the top of the windswept dune.

Moonlight turned the sand of the narrow valley to a sea of whipped gold. The night winds had left tiny crests as of waves caught in mid-motion, and had smoothed away any trace of Jaffa boots, sandals, or bare feet come to inspect the oddly shaped mound curling around the invisible time-ship. He waited, examining the empty plain, the naked rock face on the other side, until he heard the lonely call of the jackal before he rose to make his way down the hill.

At the bottom, he stood a moment in the deep shadows, considering.

If Daniel's Jack and Sam had survived – if the stubborn impatient bastard had listened, had – the grief and rage rose up again, roaring like a tsunami over his thickly built and defended walls. Daniel breathed deeply, eyes closed, and firmly, painstakingly fought the churning sorrow back to lie in a sludge-like pool at the very base of his psyche. Murmured prayers sliding silently on his tongue, weight balanced perfectly between shoulder-wide stance, canted hip-bones, and straight shoulders, Daniel breathed to spark his Ka to life, to strengthen and heal him.

They were gone. Dead. Returned to the earth from which they had not yet been born.

Sam had died in Ra's first reaction to the human rebellion, destroyed by targeted strikes from death gliders on the village's main buildings. Teal'c had taken apart Ra's Jaffa with ruthless efficiency, fighting on when anyone else would have given up. Daniel and Jack, leading the flanks, had seen him take the fatal hit, had moved immediately to support him, fighting through their own injuries to get to him. Jack had fought like Daniel had never seen him fight before – silent and deadly. He might have succeeded, but a lucky shot had knee-capped him and he'd been taken captive by Ra's personal guards. That left Daniel to be carried, bloody and unconscious, from the battleground by a group of Ra's slaves who hid him away and nursed him back to health.

Not in time to save Jack from enduring soul-rending, inhuman torture, death, and sarcophagus revival over and over and over again.

By the time Daniel recovered enough to find a way to his friend – his best friend – the man who had become father and brother and an integral part of his own soul – Jack O'Neill was gone and a haggard, bloodless, scarecrow of a man stood in chains at Ra's side. When the blank gaze had moved across Daniel's face twice, unseeing, uncaring, Daniel knew.

It was Khefti who had helped him. Had helped Daniel back to health. Had given him one chance to see Jack again, to release Jack from an inhuman existence as Ra's object lesson. Daniel deliberately turned his memories away from the last time he'd seen – the last time his best friend had known him just before the end.

He opened dry, bloodshot eyes and pushed the button on the Ancient remote.

The ship's outline wavered. Flickered. A static charge flirted with the fine hairs on his arms before it settled to a mere distracting buzz. Dr. Carter had done what she could with the controls, rewiring obvious damage and putting the pieces back together. The cloak worked. The ship's systems responded to the ATA gene. With just a few more nighttime visits, Daniel knew that he could get it to fly.

It had been another unbelievable coincidence that, on one of O'Neill and Dr. Carter's few trips to work on the ship, Khefti had been acting as guide and protector. Khefti, Royal Eunuch charged with the care of Ra's female slaves, had been Daniel's greatest ally. The middle-aged slave harbored a sharp mind beneath the curls of his ornate wig, and he'd welcomed Daniel as harbinger of freedom. Later, it was Khefti who had, day by day, helped him plant the seeds of a new rebellion, one that would take years to ripen. He ferreted information, weapons, and technology out from under Ra's nose and had fought and bled at Daniel's side once the fighting began. When the man had brought back the excited tale of how the Ancient ship's systems had responded to him, to his presence and his mental commands, a plan had leaped fully formed to Daniel's mind.

He thumbed the control disk, lowered the aft ramp, and hurried inside, checking connections as he moved quickly forward. The starboard engine clamp had fused during O'Neill's firefight with Apophis' Jaffa over Chulak. It had taken Lithia, the finest jeweler in eight villages, two weeks to craft him a new one from the wreckage of the other ship – their original time-ship. Tonight Daniel would see if it fit. He pulled off his outer robes and dropped them on the co-pilot's chair, fingering the thick scars along the left side of his ribs, before crouching over the engine hatch.

An hour and a half later, Daniel wiped his hands and stared at the pristine mechanism. "Beautiful," he whispered, a faint grin teasing at his lips. Bone-weary, it was the closest to a cheer that he could come. He'd bring Khefti by in a few days for a complete systems check; the eunuch could be excited and effervescent enough for both of them.

"Planning a little joyride, are we?"

Daniel's back stiffened, his awkward crouched position over the internal engine controls taking on the aspect of an animal crouching protectively over his kill. He pushed the disappointment and resentment back and replaced the cover-plate with a few quick, precise twists of his fingers. Tucking the rag into the waistband of his shenti, and missing pockets, _again_, he turned to face the doppelganger leaning against the hatch and wearing a dead man's face.

"O'Neill." Not 'Jack'. Not this man.

"Jackson."

Daniel narrowed his burning eyes, denying the thumping in his temples, the way his vision wavered as if they stood in the blazing heat. "I thought you were resting."

"That's what I figured." O'Neill pulled away from the bulkhead and limped towards him. "Gonna answer the question?"

"Well, I wouldn't get far alone, now would I?" Daniel tried a smile. It didn't seem to fit.

"Which begs the question. Why have you been sneaking off at odd hours to come here?"

Daniel shrugged, having no problem at all keeping silent before this version of Jack O'Neill.

O'Neill's lips twisted. "No comment. Getting kinda tired of hearing that from you."

Daniel grabbed his outer robes and moved towards the rear of the ship as if he was being pulled along in some strange dance with the other man, one going backwards and the other forwards. It sort of defined some of his worst memories of friendship with Jack, he thought, touching his internal hurt like he would tongue a broken tooth. He eyed this thinner – sharper - frailer-looking version warily. Daniel didn't want his memories of Jack, of the circuitous path of their friendship, tarnished by his interactions with this man.

His robes a warm bundle in his hands, Daniel slid his fingers along the braided cord of his belt and felt a sliver of cold steel against his spine. Deliberately keeping his eyes open and locked with O'Neill's, he did not look towards the ship's remote mechanism which he'd, apparently, left lying in plain sight on one of the side benches. He'd never win against O'Neill in a wrestling match – he knew that for a fact.

O'Neill still watched, head tilted to one side, and then laughed to himself at Daniel's stubborn silence. "Right. Well I didn't much like the other you either."

That had been obvious from the beginning. From the older man's first dismissive grunt, Daniel knew it would be an uphill battle getting any respect from him. So he hadn't tried. Daniel ordered. He'd demonstrated – but he'd never left O'Neill an opening to take charge, to take over the mantle of leadership that his best friend had worn so naturally. This O'Neill was still too angry, his character carved and molded by the loss of his child. He'd been left alone to chew on his grief and guilt too long, the Stargate coming into his life after years of bitter loneliness – no mission to Abydos, no surrogate son in Skaara, and no long-haired geek who would give his life for the surly officer. He fought – oh, Daniel reminded himself, O'Neill fought – with teeth clenched and blood in his eyes, he'd fought. But without any of the Jack O'Neill signature panache, or self-effacing humor, or innate compassion.

Daniel's greatest weapon to keep this 'new' O'Neill off balance had been the fact that he didn't know a word of Ancient Egyptian – and few of Daniel's followers had any knowledge of English.

Except for Khefti. The eunuch had absorbed whatever Daniel taught him with eager joy. So he'd understood O'Neill's nasty slur about 'girly men' perfectly when Daniel introduced the two.

"Don't try it."

Daniel stopped, hands crushing the robes to his chest as if it were a shield. "Try what?"

O'Neill eased himself into one of the command chairs with a hiss. He pressed his right hand to his thigh, just above where a bleached linen bandage peeked out from his homemade cut-off BDUs.

"Try going back."

Daniel screened his eye roll by pulling the robes over his head. Idiot. Whatever timeline they were living in now already had a Daniel Jackson. Hopefully one who'd found Catherine at the end of his rope so he could open Earth's Stargate and defeat Ra. Again. He wondered, not for the first time, if Ra remembered his face from this successful rebellion. Remembered and blamed him. And that was why the Goa'uld would place him in a sarcophagus to bring his dead body back to life on Abydos. He shook off the useless rabbit trail and faced his current enemy.

"I'm not trying to go back. There's no place for me there." Daniel let all the bitterness, all the loss and despair, color his voice with tones of grey and black.

O'Neill's sigh was tired – the exhausted sigh of a tired old man. "So – what, then? What's the attraction to this thing?"

Daniel tucked his zat back into his belt with shaking hands. "Just making sure I keep our options open. Without the Ancient ships we wouldn't have been able to run Ra off without a lot more loss of life."

O'Neill must have let his thoughts wander to the ship's controls for a moment – the flight console lit up, faintly welcoming him. He twisted the pilot's chair to face the controls and Daniel quickly grabbed the remote mechanism and hid it within a fold of his robe.

"Huh." A whining drone sounded, a winking yellow light turning to bright green. "Look at that."

Daniel stayed still, watching.

The colonel shut down the systems and turned back to face him, eyes hooded. "Engine pod controls are working. Nice job."

Daniel nodded.

"I notice the drive circuit is still missing a crystal, though." His smile was brilliant-edged with danger. "Not going anywhere until you figure out a replacement."

"Nope." And until Daniel and his crew were ready, that crystal would remain "missing." He didn't want O'Neill to get any bright ideas about moving the ship to another location before he was ready to leave. "I hope to come up with something eventually," he added.

"Uh-huh." O'Neill's scrutiny was nothing like Jack's had been. It didn't come from a place of friendship and caring; it didn't turn on years of mutual understanding and experience. It didn't skid across Daniel's nerves, didn't raise a flush or dip into the pool of guilt in his belly. Daniel had never been able to lie to Jack – but this man – this … This was easy.

"I'm heading back." Daniel crooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Try to catch a few hours of sleep." Tonight he'd gladly take the tincture Khefti always offered. Tonight he'd sleep – and forget. The concern in his eyes was honest. "So should you."

The older man paused a moment, clearly communicating his distrust. "Okie dokie," he finally relented, rising stiffly to his feet and following Daniel from the spacecraft.

When they stood side by side in the desert night, Daniel didn't turn his head to seek out a familiar half-smile, or listen for a snide remark about trees or the lack thereof. He heard O'Neill close the hatch behind him and felt the snap of electricity as the ship re-cloaked. And then Daniel led the way back to the village. Walking at O'Neill's right shoulder, in his footprints, would never happen again.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The smell of cooking grain rose up to Daniel's rooftop perch from the kitchen below. One foot on the low parapet, he studied the pre-dawn that lightened the black velvet sky to navy blue. His weak eyes searched for columns of smoke or the smoldering fires of lingering battles. For the twenty-fifth morning in a row, there was nothing.

He recognized Khefti's perfume over the aroma of breakfast as the eunuch made his way up the outer stairs. Without turning, Daniel greeted him as he had every morning for nearly eight years.

"What do you see, my friend?"

A graceful hand curved over Daniel's shoulder. "Besides a man too burdened by his thoughts and regrets?" Khefti's response was familiar, too.

"Besides that." Daniel took Khefti's hand and kissed its once smooth back. The pampered eunuch had transformed himself into a roughened warrior with barely a backwards glance of regret for his former life of luxury in Ra's harem. "Please," Daniel urged. Great grandchild of the Ancients on Earth, Khefti's eyes were long-seeing, his thoughts fluid, and his actions languid with controlled strength. Daniel had no idea how an Ancient child had come to Egypt, how he'd been orphaned and abandoned here, but he was ever grateful.

Khefti sighed dramatically. "Besides the most handsome man in all the kingdoms worrying himself sick… I see …" He turned his shaved head to each compass point. "I see farmers rising to tend their crops. I see women carrying pails of goats' milk. I see fishermen hurrying to the river." He turned to Daniel, his dark eyes wet. "I see peace."

A weight flew from Daniel's shoulders to rise with the morning mists. He lifted his chin and closed his eyes before raising both hands to his forehead and then to the east in praise and supplication. "May it be so," he murmured in Abydonian, remembering a year of mornings – so long ago – when he'd greeted the dawn with his wife and brother.

Khefti joined the ancient salute, standing in silence until Daniel moved; respecting his friend's fleeting moment of serenity.

They performed their morning stretches and then sat knee to knee on thin pallets eating the gruel and dates Khefti had brought up from the kitchen. Teal'c joined them a few minutes later, bearing his own heartier fare of fish and bread.

After they'd broken their fast, Teal'c spoke.

"Is it time?"

Khefti watched Daniel through lowered lashes.

"I think it is," Daniel finally replied.

Teal'c nodded. "The last ring platform has been disabled. The artisans are content with the size of the stone we have moved to cover the Chappa'ai and are hard at work choosing designs for its face. The Goa'uld can neither dial in from another location, nor utilize the rings to descend from ships."

"I have but to gather the food supplies we will need." Khefti fidgeted with excitement. "You have told me of the place of ice and snow where we must stop. The little ship now holds robes and blankets aplenty, jars of water, and sleeping mats."

"And you have learned much of flying, Khefti." Teal'c bowed his head almost regally. "This flight to your polar region should prove to be but another practice flight before our longer journey."

Khefti preened under Teal'c's praise as he'd blossomed under the Jaffa's patient teaching. "Who knew when I was taken by Ra as a child that I would someday stand beside such stalwart warriors," he smiled.

Daniel touched the eunuch's bent knee. "You're the only reason we managed to succeed, my friend. The gods placed you within Ra's household a lamb, but gave you the heart of a lion of Nubia."

The slim man blushed, his fondness – outright attraction, the archaeologist admitted – shining from his eyes.

"Today, then," Teal'c stated.

"Yes. We'll leave during the heat of the day when others are taking their rest." Daniel recognized the urgent need in Teal'c's voice. The Jaffa had come to him a month ago to speak of his fear that burying the Stargate would still trap one living Goa'uld symbiote on Earth. _His_ symbiote. Eventually it would mature. And either Teal'c would kill it and die, or it would take a host and live.

Daniel had not hesitated. Including Teal'c in his 'exit strategy' made his heart lift with cautious gladness. That he could take this nearly identical twin of his good friend along on his last journey was an unlooked-for reward.

"Will you not take your leave of O'Neill and Doctor Carter?"

Khefti made a rude noise and looked away.

Daniel studied his folded hands. He told himself that they'd find out soon enough. He told himself that his absence – Teal'c's absence – would be more relief than grief. O'Neill was happy in the house he'd chosen for the couple, happy to go out and fish every day, with no other responsibilities looming. The Egyptians were rebuilding, choosing their own leaders, their own ways, both political and religious, and O'Neill wanted no part of it. He was officially retired, for the second time. Daniel couldn't begrudge him his rest.

Dr. Carter was learning. Learning a new language. And old science. The oldest, Daniel smiled. In less than six months she'd be a mother – without any of the labor and time saving devices of the 20th century. If there was the least bit of Sam Carter in her make-up, she'd be pretty damn good at it, too.

"They have fought bravely, Daniel. Do they not deserve a good-bye?"

At least this iteration of Teal'c was willing to call him 'Daniel,' he thought wryly, looking off into the distance. "I don't –" He shook his head. How could he tell this hardened warrior that saying good-bye to Jack O'Neill was something he'd never wanted to face again?

"Rohi."

Daniel turned at Khefti's endearment, surprised by the look of open despair on his friend's face.

"Daniel, my soul," the eunuch continued. "You must face this man, face the losing of your last tie to this great friendship." His slim hand cradled Daniel's cheek. "If you do not, you will always be haunted by … by your other leave-taking."

Frowning furiously, Daniel couldn't turn away. Khefti had found him after – after Jack died. Had found him wandering the dunes a few days later, his skin burned and dried, lips cracked, close to collapse from dehydration, exhaustion; grief and guilt. He'd shaken Daniel from his nightmares, and listened to his inebriated babbling. And he'd never judged.

"I –"

"You are wise, Daniel. Your wisdom makes you a cunning and passionate warrior." Teal'c spoke softly, gently, betraying a wealth of affection. "Allow others to lead you in this and you will be victorious as you have been over Ra and his minions."

Daniel's laugh was choked, humorless. "You two have too much faith in me." There could be no victory for him now.

Teal'c's posture was upright and strong – as usual – and he stared straight into Daniel's eyes. "Khefti and I shall await you at the time-ship two hours after the mid-day meal." He rose in one motion and held out his hand.

Resigned, Daniel clasped the Jaffa's forearm and allowed himself to be pulled up and into Teal'c's swift embrace. When they parted he blinked tears from his eyes and watched the strong back until it vanished down the stairs.

The clay cups were stacked, the wooden bowls gathered onto the tray with deft motions before Khefti rose to carry them away, leaving Daniel to his thoughts with a sad smile and an unspoken order to go. Daniel shook his head and took one last look over the village that had been his home for so many years. The darkness that crept in along the edges of his sight was not danger – it wasn't a false god's return or the shadow of death.

The skies were clear. The air, pure. The darkness was only within him.

Maybe they were right. Maybe it was time.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The Nile was receding in its season; the farmers acted quickly to plant new crops in the ultra-rich soil left behind while the fishermen chased the water farther and farther each day. Daniel walked slowly, telling himself it was for one last feel of the bright sunshine and the sounds and smells of this ancient land before he left. Not because he dreaded the confrontation ahead of him.

Many of the people of the surrounding villages called to him. A young boy ran up with a handful of dried fruit; a pair of teenage girls laughed behind their hands, their aged khatba clucking her tongue and hurrying them along. By the time he'd reached the lone fisherman, woven hat shading his face and his fingers laced across his chest, Daniel felt centered. Balanced. Well – almost.

"Finally saw the light, eh?" O'Neill didn't bother looking up. "How can dusty scrolls and fancy Egyptian yoga possibly compete with the simple bliss of fishing?"

Daniel settled back against the thick, gnarled trunk of an elder tree, legs crossed. "That must be the single unchangeable constant in every Jack O'Neill's existence," he chuckled. "Somewhere, in every reality where some version of the two of us exist, Jack is trying to convince Daniel of the joys of fishing."

O'Neill grunted and peeked out from beneath his very ugly, very hand-crafted hat. "Well, this is a day to mark on the old calendar. Not only are you talking to me, but you're talking to me about me. The other me."

Daniel shifted his weight, acknowledging the complaint without apology. "Actually, I'd like to tell you about Jack, if that's all right with you."

Rising on his elbows, O'Neill looked him over, suspicion radiating. "This isn't where you tell me you and me – him – were heating the sheets, is it? 'Cause there are some things I just don't wanna know."

Daniel swallowed back an angry reply. "No. Jack and I are – were –" damn time travel, "are straight."

"'Cause I wondered about that other you – a little light in the loafers, I figured. And you and mister snip-a-dee-doo-dah are pretty chummy-"

"Khefti is a good man and a good friend, Colonel." This was a bad idea. "Just because I don't judge people based on who and how they love –" Daniel pushed up from the ground – he'd wasted enough time and breath on this guy.

"Whoa there – calm down." The colonel held up both hands in surrender. "Sorry." He frowned. "Seriously, didn't this other me have any sense of humor?"

Daniel's jaw stiffened and his hands clenched and unclenched. It was a few moments before he could speak calmly. "He did. But it wasn't based on arrogance and bigotry." Most of the time.

Threads of red and gold were brightening the horizon, heralding the sun. The two men watched in awkward silence.

"Why don't we start over again," O'Neill began, his voice oddly quiet. "And then you can tell me what you came out here to say."

The smell of barbecue and cheap beer, the smooth feel of Jack's deck under his back, the clean air of Colorado. It was easy to fall back there, into that life, safe inside a friendship that had healed Daniel's wounds again and again. Eyes closed on the present, he sank into his past - this universe's future – and began to speak.

"We saved the world. We saved each other, Jack and I. It was that simple." He smiled. "He was gruff and brusque and filled with childlike humor and whimsy until there was a threat – to us, to Earth or our allies – and then he was fierce and resilient. When we met, he was raw and wounded, intent on suicide. I gave my life for him. And then he put me back together when my wife – " He breathed slowly, in and out, and allowed the sorrow to fill him once again.

"We were friends, brothers. With all the fighting and jokes and resentment and– and love that comes along with that."

Beside him, O'Neill was silent. Thankfully.

"This trip to the past was my bright idea. And they paid the price for it. Sam and Teal'c. And Jack."

"So you forced him to come."

Daniel's eyes snapped open and he frowned. "No – no one – "

"Let me guess," O'Neill grinned. "No one could force your good buddy Jack to do anything he didn't want to do."

"No," Daniel nodded reluctantly. "No," he whispered, his head pounding.

"And the rebellion that failed – that was your idea, too."

Daniel lifted his eyes to follow the flight of an ibis inches above the water. His stomach twisted, his throat closing over the words. Silence built up around them, growing to muffle birds and insects, the call of voices, the rhythm of water and wind.

A touch on his shoulder brought Daniel back. He turned his head, surprised that the colonel had moved to sit beside him.

"You came out here to tell me something. And I'm thinking it's gonna be more for your benefit than for mine. That's okay," he added hurriedly. "I just think we should stipulate a couple of things to move this along."

Daniel shrugged.

"Okay, first," O'Neill held up one finger. "I'm not your friend. But I'm not an idiot, either. Stop blaming me for not being him."

His chest tight, Daniel nodded reluctantly. "Okay."

"Good. Now, 'B.' Even though my attempts at humor may tell you differently, you and your guys did a damned fine job chasing that Goa'uld away while keeping hold of the Stargate. Really." The deep-set eyes held Daniel's. "I'd be honored to serve with any and all of you."

It shouldn't matter. This man's words shouldn't burn, shouldn't taste so bittersweet. Daniel swallowed once. Twice.

"Okay?" O'Neill prompted.

"I – I appreciate that, Colonel."

"Good. Now. Your turn," O'Neill wheedled, fingers crooking in a 'gimme' gesture.

Bittersweet, indeed. Daniel cleared his throat. "You're a brave man in coming back here, Colonel. Without you, we probably wouldn't have succeeded."

"Yeeaah," O'Neill waved his hand back and forth. "Might have taken longer, especially without the little time-ship. But you'd have done it."

"Even so." Daniel's brows drew together, his eyes narrowed to slits to keep out the dazzling light. Or, perhaps, to disguise the shadows in his own soul. He flattened his palms against his thighs. He hadn't worn the BDU pants for months – years. They felt foreign – but also like coming home.

"I need to – someone should know how Jack died." He met O'Neill's concerned gaze – it, too, was foreign, but oh, so familiar. Daniel licked his lips and hesitantly unknotted the tight rein he kept on his sorrow, on his grief and guilt. He let it rush upwards and fill him.

"I don't – " The colonel stopped short, apparently changing his mind. "If you need to say it, need to get it out, I'm here to listen. But, before you start, let me ask you one more question, kid." He prodded Daniel in the chest. "Are you looking or absolution or penance?"

"A little of both, I guess," Daniel admitted.

O'Neill paused. "I may have been a good catholic boy once, but I've done things – seen things."

"'Damned distasteful things,' Jack used to say."

"Yeah. Just keep that in mind, huh?" O'Neill's lips twisted. "You're not going to shock me, kid."

"Really." A great weariness washed over Daniel. "Not even if I told you how I killed my best friend?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Khefti had argued. Threatened. He'd tried tears in the end, but Daniel had been unmovable. He wouldn't rest, wouldn't wait much less flee into hiding until he'd rescued Jack – one way or another. The eunuch had called in favors, had lured away the two Horus guards posted outside Jack's cell with the promise of two harem slaves. Daniel had forced himself to put off his guilt over that and to focus only on the mission.

"You have but a handsful of moments, Daniel," the eunuch warned. "Ra sends for his prisoner at strange hours each day, never failing. Be quick, or you, too, will be taken."

The door opened to Khefti's stolen code and Daniel slipped inside the darkened chamber, his zat open and ready.

"Jack?"

Head pounding, his sight sometimes only blurred, sometimes doubled from the concussion and fracture, Daniel peered through the gloom. A slight movement beneath the heavily shuttered window drew him on.

"Jack?"

It might have been a sigh. A breath. A choked gasp of laughter. Feral eyes gleamed over bent knees.

"Jack, it's me. Daniel." He crouched, dread curling up from his belly.

Jack's sudden rush knocked him backwards, his aching head smacking against the floor with a sharp crack. A black curtain descended, thick and velvety. When it rose again, after who knew how long, Jack was sitting on Daniel's chest, one knee pinning each of his arms to the floor. Callused hands were wrapped loosely around his throat.

"Ja-"

The fingers closed, gripping tightly, cutting off any trickle of air. Daniel felt the panic rising and made himself hold still.

His face twisting in a grotesque grimace, Jack leaned in close – close enough for Daniel to feel the moisture from his breath. "_Not_. _Jack_."

Daniel tried to communicate understanding – agreement – and the painful grip eased. He drew in a whistling breath and sought some sort of opening – an answering recognition in the furious stare.

"I'm Daniel. Your friend. Do you – do you remember me?"

Hands twitched against his throat. "No past. No remembering." Teeth raked scabbed lips. "Only Ra. Only death. Death." He pressed two thumbs against Daniel's windpipe. "Death. Quick and silent. Then darkness." Panting, the broken man bared his teeth and Daniel saw that they were stained with blood. "Hands. Teeth. Death is easy."

Tears pooled in Daniel's eyes. He closed them and felt the warm line of moisture crawl down the sides of his face. Oh, God. Jack. A rough hand slapped him – hard. His eyes flew open.

"No. Not for you." The hand caressed Daniel's cheek, one finger tapping his nose in a heartbreakingly familiar gesture.

Daniel managed a short nod, tears still falling. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Jack answered with a snarl of pure rage and launched himself to one side, fists raised. Daniel curled sideways and threw up one arm to block before he realized that Jack was smashing his fists against his own temples.

"Stop – stop, please!" Daniel darted after him, grappling, forcing one arm into a desperate hold behind Jack's back. Jack's arm felt like it was made of steel cable wrapped in barbed wire, but Daniel managed to hang on, to pin his friend face first against the wall. "Please, please listen," he whispered against the back of Jack's neck. "Please."

Tiny spasms shook all along Jack's body as he strained backwards, howling.

Daniel tensed, expecting to hear the guards' booted steps running towards them. Nothing. He shifted his weight to get a better grip and Jack reared, hurling him away. He fell heavily against the wall, thankfully remaining conscious this time. He didn't know how long he had – how long he could physically keep up with jack, or how long it would be before Ra's guards came for him again. More torture. More death. More resurrection.

The man who had been Jack O'Neill, best friend, beloved older brother, dropped to his knees and bowed his forehead to the floor. It broke something inside Daniel's chest – to see this strong, steady, irreverent hero brought to this drained the life from Daniel's soul.

"Begging – begging you," the cringing figure pleaded.

"Oh, God," Daniel fell before him, arms out to lift him up, to hold him, to do anything - anything – to stop Jack's pain.

Raising his head, Jack looked into Daniel's eyes. There, deep down, the final spark of light, feeble and pale, went out. And Daniel knew he'd never see this friend – this hero – again.

Jack's hands held Daniel's zat – open, pointed at his own chest. "Once. Once isn't death."

"I know." Daniel closed his hands around Jack's. "You've tried before, haven't you?" The stark defeat in every crease and line on the older man's face gave him his answer.

"Three."

Daniel's head was shaking. No. No. He couldn't do this. They could fight. They could hide – Khefti would – they'd wait out the addiction – maybe he could drag him down the corridor – images threw themselves against Daniel's mind. How many slaves had already died to hide him? How many more lives would it take to care for Jack?

One hand cupped his cheek again. "Three."

"Three," he heard himself promise.

The broken man pushed himself backwards, out of Daniel's grasp, and pulled the trigger the first time, collapsing to the floor with a groan of low-pitched laughter that sounded just like Jack O'Neill.

The second shot came from Daniel's hand.

He allowed himself a moment. A moment to smooth back the grey hairs. To fold blood encrusted fingers over a narrow chest. To stand, head bowed, and let fresh tears fall in an anointing rain.

"Thy heart is light," he murmured, and pulled the trigger one last time.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The early morning birds had gone, hiding in their nests to await the cooler breezes of evening. Their companions, the Nile fishermen, soon followed in ones and twos, many raising a hand in silent greeting to Daniel's companion. The heat rose and Daniel closed his eyes, lifting his face to the sun, for once not damning the thick black bands that narrowed his vision. Perhaps, one day, they'd swallow the worst of the things he'd seen in his life – his parents' death, his wife's rape and murder, and Jack, eyes empty of life as he fell.

He heard the thin fishing pole whip back and forth, the line swishing in the water with tiny ripples. He imagined long-fingered hands gesturing about a fish 'this big,' or painting the beauty of Minnesota in the air. He smiled as he wondered if they could share an afterlife – after all, it must be big enough to include great fishing and great libraries.

"So, you still mad at him?"

The question reached into that thick black place in the center of Daniel's being and let in one ray of light. "I'm – I'm learning to let it go." Learning slowly. The meditation techniques that Khefti had taught him helped.

"That's good," O'Neill replied, his voice suspiciously even. "I was mad for a long time – a very long time – after Charlie died."

_I know_, Daniel added silently.

The colonel blew out a loud breath. "For what it's worth," he began.

"Don't." Daniel stood and looked down into bright brown eyes. "It's too soon for me to believe it."

"Sure, I get it." The older man rose laboriously and gathered his fishing pole and line in his left hand. "Look – I don't know where you're going, but like your friend, I trust you. Trust you to do the right thing." He stuck out his right hand.

Daniel stared at it, frowning, before meeting the man halfway. The callused grip was almost identical. Almost. "You do?"

"I do," O'Neill smiled. "Just sorry it took me this long to figure it out. And, hey, if you ever want to stop by, grab a beer, whatever, the door's always open."

"Thank you." Daniel smiled back. "Thank you, Jack."

"The honor's all mine, Daniel.

A few hours later, Khefti held the time ship aloft over a certain low house near the river and three travelers looked down on a man and a woman raising their hands in farewell.

"Where shall we go, Daniel?" Teal'c asked as Khefti steered the ship towards the Antarctic Stargate.

"I was thinking of Atlantis," Daniel replied.

End


End file.
